Beautiful and Redolent Flowers: Bloom 19

Photo: Boripat Lebel

Stop and smell the roses is an idiomatic advice I like to take literally. With this in mind, upon coming across such a gorgeous cluster of roses, a shade between lava and Ferrari red, all my faculties for the next few minutes were applied towards appreciating the dimensions of its lusty beauty. Eyes tracing the voluptuous curves of its bloom, fingers caressing its supple petals, and nose greedily inhaling whiffs of its redolent scent, a fragrance so beautiful I suppose it could be ascribed to Aphrodite’s pheromones. The sensitivity of the human sensorium, combined with the vainglorious mind of a young gentleman obsessed with ancient nobility, evoked the scenes of an intoxicated Roman Dominus lounging hedonistically while partaking one of the many potent indulgences, Assyrian opium, provided at a Saturnalia hosted by a libertine friend at a splendid villa uncommonly luxurious even for its class, and one which critics (that is to say, those who are not invited) would sententiously censure as a pleasure palace and pantheon to Dionysus.